The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

\^liHt Cousin Amy Thiukt.. <L0CK»1-HV UALL II.â€" BUTV MINUTES AFTEIt.) t'roai tbu Miuueapolis Tribuiie.) uiv rest a little from your woll-woru "»: vudy tracHSi" < -est; and for your ttctioM. summou up SuauBuber facts. O! vohad vour say. and aiuiily have set fi â- -â- .h your tlirico-told tale ; U vc 'â-  -Id my i>eace, and hardly venture now a th-iaoHu stale. . your arlier verse you call me names that Bcai'cely were refined ; But I write uo answering versee to disturb your pi- â- -'-â- o of mind. Now th .: w'll-ninb eighty winters whiten botli Oi-L- heads v.ith snow, Let ui' turn, a (ew brief iiiauieiits. to those Bc lies of lung ago. When (iboat the beach we wander ed w e were hii.'py. yiiu ttud I ; WW And yi» . loved me, or you said soâ€" that at least I'll not deny. 'Twas tl.>- springtime, when the iris changes on V-i<; burnish'd dove, Aadavouu^ iiiauH lively fancy lightly turns to avui th.. ai^hts of love. But it iS not always spring time ; youthful fa iciefi soon are post ; And an /ipril love, though ardent, may not stand a â- Viutry blast. You W'To quick to think me Uckle, though I kn 'w your fears were wild ; For you hought yourself a man, and W2 a shal- low, hearted child. I was b.t a lesser You ; and me you kindly did define Astoy^viiiko moon to suuliglit, for as water untu wiuo. Wiser than your faucy fathomed, wiser than your song hath sungâ€" I. a child, had even then a prudent dread of your sharp tongue. Though rtubdued the chord of self when love took up the harp of life, Yet I felt y«>u loved yourself much better than you lould your wife. Bo said 1, for both our sakes, 'twere better far that I retired; Although a future barou, yet you were not one to be dusired. And youâ€" vou quickly eased your grief and took another to yaur breast. As in spring the wanton lapwmg gets bliuself another crest. And we went our separate ways, held our sopar- atn carocrsâ€" Toiled and Htruggled, failed or triumphed through the slowly longtheuing years. I, in simple cares and duties, led my quiet life apart. All my griefs and my few triumplis folded close within uiy heart. You havo won a world's applause, have seen its trophies at your feet ; The laurel and the lordling's crown upon your amplu forehead meet. The grand old gardener and his wife, from yon bhie heavens above us I>eut, Must smtie to hear your sageeouohision : " There is something in descent." Uonors coiiio, but wisdom lingei's, and you hear a burdened breast. Full of sad experience, moving toward the stiU- nesH of your rest, Now I see you old and formal, fitted to your petty part, With your little hoard of nia\iuis preaching down a grandson's heart. * 'They were danjjerous guides, the feelings." Youth is vain and age is wiseâ€" Ah! that Love's pulse slacks nt fourscore Is no matter for suri'rife' And the world, for whose advanceuiontrang your buglu " i'orward," then, " Cbao^, oosnios I (^osmon, chaos!" iweniH tinto your later ken. Ab, that ho who ever foremost cheered the peoplu's standards on Now would " hush this cry of forward till ten thousand years have gnu*'.' Ah, that e'er the trumpets voice that loudest cbeerod the brave assault. 'Gainst the hordes of wrong and error, now should Kouud a piping " Kalt ! " I am but a simple woman ; yet 1 f^el a thrill of pain As I catcli those tremulous echoes of that old heroic strain. U'eoknosR that is born of weakness ; phantasies that are but real To an old man's failing faith that withers from his youth's ideal. Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward let tlie (;reat world range, Hweoping on. aud ever upward, through the ring- ing grooves of change. fiotthofl&R of Human Rights unfurled above Wrong's dread abysm ; Trust the ct>mnioii sense of most to avert a social cataclysm. ICobbcr lords and despots tremble ? they who have the peoi)lrt yoked Well may dread the storm they've tempted, fear the wrath they have invoked. If there comes a hungry people, like a lion creep- ing nigbor, Tyrants nod and wink no longer. Larum ! I^et thoiii mend their tire. But howsoever these things be, you scarcely now will care to know ; I'hiough we've had of Lockwley Hallâ€" now, Alfred, let the subject go. A NOVEL. The HlghRst, tho Il«8t. " Buchst du (loH Hoochfite, das (iroosste? Dfo Pflanzo knnn ch dieh lohreu. Was Rle wilkMilos Ist, sei| Dit es woUeud: das ist's !" Beck'Ht thou tho HiRh^'Bt, tho Jtofit: Tho riowor can to tlieo rovoal it- Man hath Bmall i>ow«r to i'xprcRB, Naturo no power to concoal it. Cloudy tho truth of man's proacliing, Suu cloar tho violut'H teacliiuK. Wiat. for his arduous pains, That tin' ()hiiosopher ^aiiioth 7 luiuwIt'dKo in cr)nipoHito grains. Wifldom'H puro gold nc'or attainetU Only Doini,' -tho dust on the sliore ; Not Beingâ€" tho sea to explore. Not thus the violet's fate : SpringlnK- on going completion I Heaching of perfect estate, lieing, to utmost repletion. Earth laps it, sun warms it, wind blows ; Uuawaru of its friends or its foes, Not rof using, nor choosing, it grows I Learn ef tho flower, O Soul, Way of the highest attaining! Iloing, not Doing, tho goal, Growth to coniiilotion thusgaiulug, O'er thop. as over tho tlowor, Klemonts diverse conspire. Yet hath it naught of thy power Of Boloction. rejection, desire 1 RoulR to like iHirfoct condition Grow by supreniest volition. â€" llovengeâ€" She wasn't very youn«, but she hud money. He didn't want the earth. " Dearest," he began, but slie Btopi>ed him. " I anticipate wliat yon are about to say, , Mr. Sampson,'' she said, " and I would spare your feelings, for it can never, I'ovor be. I esteem you highly, and will bo a Hister toâ€"" " I have four sisters already," he replied bilt(:rly ; " four grown sistcrf, ' and life; is a hiJeous binden. But, oh, Olara," he went on passionately. " if you cannot be my wife will you not give me a mother's protecting love'.' I'm an orphan.' And so Ernest posted his letters, and then, partly to employ his thoughts, aud partly because it was his nature to throw himself into whatever stream of life was flowing past him, he set himself to master the state of political affairs in the country in whicli he found himself. This need not bo entered into liere, further than to say that it was such as might with advantage have employed wiser heads than his, and indeed did employ them. Suffice it to say that he contrived to make himself of considerable use to the English party, both before and after the annexation of the Transvaal to the dominions of the Crown. Together with the proclamation by which the Transvaal was annexed to Her Majesty's dominions was issued another that was to have a considerable bearing upon our hero's fortunes. This was none other than a promise of Her Majesty's gracious pardon to all such as had been resident in the Transvaal for a period of six mouths previous to the date of annexa- tion, being former British subjects and offenders against tlio English criminal law, who would register their name and offence within a given time. The object of this proclamation was to give immunity from prosecution to many individuals formerly deserters from the English army, and other people who had in some way transgressed the laws, but were now occupying resjixjct- ablc positions in theiradopted country. Mr. Alston read this proclamation attentively when it came out in a special number of the Gazette. Then, after think- ing for a while, he handed it to Ernest. " You have read this amnesty proclama- tion?" he said. " Yes," answered Ernest ; "what of it?" " What of it ? Ah,the stupidity of youth ! Can't you very well see that it takes your neck out of the halter ? Off with you and register your name and offence with the Secretary to Government, and you will be clear forever from any consequences that might ensue from the slight indiscretion of shooting your own first cousin." 'By Jove, Alston ! you don't mean that?" " Moan it ? Of course I do. The pro- clamation does not specify any particulai offence to which pardon is denied and you have lived more than six months on Trans- vaal territory. Off you go." And Ernest went like an arrow. CHAl'TEU XXVH. VOVaU WANTING. Ernest reached the Government office and registered his name, and in due course received " Her Majesty's gracious pardon." When this precious document was in his pocket, Ernest thought that he now for the nrst time realized what tho feelings of a slav e unexpectedly manumited must be. Had it not been for this fortunate accident, the conseeiuencns of that fatal duel must have continually overshadowed him. He would, had he returned to England, have been liable at any jieriod of his life to a prose- cution for murder. His first idea on getting his pardon was to return straight' 'ay to England ; but that silent fate whicli directs men's lives, driving them whither they would not, and forcing their bare and bleeding feet to stumble along the stony paths of its hidden purpose, came into his mind and made him see that it would bo better to delay awhile. In a few weeks Eva's answer would surely reach him. If ho were to go now it would be even possiblo that he might pass her in mid-ocean,for in his heart he never doubted but that she would come. And indeed the very next mail there came a letter from Dorothy, written in answer to that which ho had posted on the same day that he hail written to Eva. It was only a short letter ; tho last post that could catjh tho mail was just going out, and his welcomo letter had only just arrived ; but she had twenty minutes, and she would send one line. She told them how gcateful they were to hear that he was well and safe, and reproached him gently for not writing. Then she thankedhim for making her his confidante about Eva Ceswick. She had guessed it long before, she said ; and she thought they were both lucky in each other, and hoped and prayed that wlien tho time came they would be as completely happy as it was possible for people to be. She had never spoken: to Eva about him ; but she should no longer feel any diffidence in doing so now. She would go and see her very soon andjilead Ms cause ; not that it wanted any pleaSihg, however, she was sure of that. Eva looked sad now that he was gone. There had been some talk awhile back of Mr. Plowden, the new clergyman ; but she supposedrthftt Eva had given him his quietus, as shot.heard no more of it now ; and so on, tHt the "postman is at tho door waiting for thih letter." Little did Ernest guess what it cost poor Dorothy to write her congratulations and wishes of happiness. A man â€" the nobler animal, remember â€" could hardly have done it ; only tho inferior woman would show such unselfishnesH. This letter filled Ernest with a. sure and certain hope. Eva, ho clearly saw,' had not had time to write by that mail ; by the next her answer would come. It can bo imagined that he waited for its advent with some anxiety. Mr. Alston, Ernest and Jeremy liod taken a house in Pretoria, and for the past nrfOnth or two had been living in it very comfortably. One morning â€" it was a particularly lovely morning â€" Ernest was standing after breakfast on a garden path smoking and directing Mn/.uoku as to the erection of his " parasols" over his favorite melons. "Mazooku, you lazy hound," said the latter at last, " If you don't put that tuft right in two shakes, I'll break your head with your own kerrie !" " Ow Inkoos," replied the Zulu, sulkily, again trying to prop up the tuft, and mut- tering to himself meanwhile. " Do yon catch what that fellow of yours is saying ?" asked Mr. Alston. "Heissay- ing that all Englishmen are inad, and that you are the maddest of the mad. He con- siders that nobody who was not a lunatic would bother his head with those ' weeds that Btink' (flowers), or tlinso fruits which, even if you Huoocod in growing thcm~and surely tlic things are bewitched or they would grow without ' iiats' " (Ernest's parasols) â€" " must Uo very cold on the stomach." At that moment the particular '' hat" whicli Mazooku was trying to arrange fell down again, whereupon the Zulu's patience gave out, and cursing it for a witch iu the most vigorous language, he emphasized his words by bringing his fist straight dovs-n on the melon, smashing it to pieces. 'Where- upon Ernest made for him and he vanished swiftly. Mr. Alston stood by laughing at tho scene, and awaited Ernest's return. Presently he came strolling back, not hav- ing caught Mazooku. Indeed, it would not have greatly mattered if he had, for as that swarthy gentleman very well knew, great, indeed, must be the provocation that could induce Ernest to touch a native. It was a thing to which he had an unconquer- able aversion, in the same way that he objected to the word " nigger" as applied to a people who, whatever their faults may be, are, as a rule, gentlemen in the truest sense of the word. As he came strolling down the path toward him, his face a little flushed with the exertion, Mr. Alston thought to himself that Ernest was growing into a very hand- some fellow. The tall frame, narrow at the waist and broad at the shoulders, the elofjuent dark eyes, which so far surpass the loveliest gray or blue, the silken hair which curled over his head like that on a Grecian statue, the curved lips, the quick intelli- gence and kindly smile that lit the whole face, all these things helped to make his appearance n«t so much handsome as charming, and to women captivating to a dangerous extent. His dress, too, which consisted of riding-breeches, boots and spurs, a white waistcoat and linen coat, with a very broad, soft felt hat looped up at one side, so as to throw the face into alternate light and shadow, helped the general effect considerably. Altogether Ernest was a pretty fellow in those days. Jereriy was lounging on an easy-chair in the veranda, iu company with the boy Roger Alston, and intensely interested in watching a furious battle between two lines of ants, black and red, who had their homes somewhere in the stonework. For a long while the issue of the battle remained doubtful, victory inclining, if anything, to the side of the thin red line, when suddenly from the entrance to the nest of the black ants there emerged a battalion of giants great fellows, at least six times tho size of the others, who fell u^xin the red ants and routed them, taking many prisoners. Thou followed the most curious spectacle, namely, the deliberate execution of tho captive red ants, by having tY jir heads bitten off by the great black soldiers Jeremy and Itoger knew what was coming very well, for these battles were of frequent occurrence, and tho casualties among the red ants simply frightful. On this occasion they determined to save the prisoners, which was effected by dipping a match in some of the nicotine at the bottom of a pipe, and placing it in front of the black giants. The ferocious insects would there- upon abandon their captives, and rushing at the strange intruder, hang on like buU- .(IpKs till the poison did its work, and they dropped off senseless, to recover presently and stagger off home, holding their legs to their antenna) and exhibiting every other symptom of frightful headache. Jeremy was sitting on a chair oiling the matches, alid Roger, kneeling on the j)avo- ment, was employed in beguiling the giants into biting them, when suddenly they heard the sound of galloping horses and the rattle of wheels. Tho lad, lowering his head still more, looked out toward tho market-square through a gap between tlie willow-stems. " Hurrah, Mr. Jones !" he said, " hero comes tho mail." Next minute, amid loud blasts from a bugle, and enveloped in a cloud of dust, tho heavy cart, to the sides and seats of which the begrimed, worn-out passengers were clinging like drowning men to straws, came rattling along as fast as the six grays reserved for the last stage could gallop, and vanished toward the post office. "There's the mail, Ernest," hallooed Jeremy ; " she will bring the English letters." Ernest nodded, tumed a little pale, and nervously knocked out his pipe. No wonder ; that mail-cart carried his destiny and he knew it. Presently he walked across the B<)uaro to tho po *-office. Tho letters were not sorted, and he was the first person there. Very soon one of His Excelfenpy's staff caine riding down to get tho Govern- ment-house bag. It was the same gentle- man with whom he had sung " Auld Lang Syne" so enthusiastically on tho day of Jeremy's encounter with the giant, and had afterward been wheeled home in a wheel- barrow. " Hullo, Kershaw, hero we are, ' primes inter omiies,' ' primos primi primores,' which is it? Come, Kershaw, you are the last from school â€" which is it ? I don't believe you know, ha! ha! ha! What are you doing down liere so soon ? Does the ' expectant swain await the postman's knock?' Why, my dear fellow, you look pale; you must be in love, or thirsty. So am I â€" the latter, not the former. liOve, I do abjure thee. ' Quis separabit,' who will havo a split ? I think that the sun can't be far from t'e line. Shall wo, my dear Kershaw, shall we take an observation ? Ha! ha! ha!" " No, thank you, I never drink anything between meals." "Ah, my boy, a bad habit; give it up before it is too late. Break it off, my dear Kershaw, and always wet your whistle in the strictest moderation, or you will die young. What says the poet ? ' Ho who drinks strong >>oer and goes to bod mellow. Lives as he ought to live, lives as he ou^ht to live, IjivoB as he ought to live, and flies a jolly good fellow. I'.yron, I think, is it not ? ha ! ha ! ha !" Just then some others came up, and somewhat to Ernest's relief, his friend turned the light of his kindly countenance to shine elsewhere and left him to his thoughts. At last the little shutter of tho post-office was thrown up, and Ernest got his own let- ters, togctlior with those of Mr. Alston and Jeremy. Ho turned into the shade of a neighboring veranda, and rapidly sorted the piln. 'I'here was no letter in Eva's handwritini,'. But there was one in that of her sisle'- I'lorence. Ernest knew the writing well ; there was no mistaking its peculiar upright, powerful-looking charac- ters. This he opened hurriedly. Inclosed in the letter was a note, which was in the writing h- liadexpected to see. He rapidly unfolded it, and as he did so a flash of fear passed through his brain. " Why did she write in this way ?" Tho note could not have been a long one, for in another minute it was lying on the ground, and Ernest, pale-faced, and with catching breath, was clinging to the veranda-post with both hands to save him- self from falling. In a few seconds he recovered, and picking up the note, walked quickly across the s(]uare tohis house. Half- way across he was overtaken by his friend on the staff cantering gayly along on a par- ticularly wooden-looking ixjny, from the sides of which his legs projected widely, and waving in one hand the Colonial Office bag addresse<l to the Administrator of the Government. " Hullo, my abstemious friend," he hallooed, as he pulled up â- 'he wooden pony with a jerk that sent each of its stiff legs sprawling in a different direction. " Was patience rewarded ? Is Chloe over tho water kind ? If not, take ray advice, and don't trouble your head about her. Quand on a pas ce qu'cu aime, the wise man aimes ce qu'il a, Kershaw, I have conceived a great affection for you, and I will let you into a secret. Come with me this after- noon, and I will introduce yon to two charming specimens of indigenous beauty. Like roses they bloom upon the veldt and waste their sweetness on the desert air. Mater pulchra, puella puloherrima, as Virgil says. I, as befits my yearn, will attach myself to the matter, for your sweet youth shall be reserved the puella. Ha ! ha I ha!" and he brought tlie dispatoh-bag down with a sounding whack between the ears of the wooden pony, with the result that he was nearly sent Hying into thesluit, being landed by a sudden plunge well on to the animal's crupijer. " Woho ! Bucephalus, whoho ! or your mealies shall be cut off." Just then he for the first time caught sight of the face of his companion, who was plodding along in silence by his side. " Hullo ! what's up, Kershaw ?" he said, in an altered tone; " you don't look well. Nothing wrong, I hope?" "Nothing, nothing," answered Ernest, quietly ; "that is, I have got some bad news, that is all. Nothing to speak of, nothing." " My dear follow, I am so sorry, aud I have been troubling you with my nonsense. Forgive me. There, yon wish to be alone. Good-by." A few seconds later Mr. Alston and Jeremy, from their point of vantage on the veranda, saw Ernest coming with swift strides up the garden path. His face was drawn with pain, and there was a lleck of blood upon his lip. He parsed them with- out a w^ord, and, entering the house, slammed the door of his own room. Mr. Alston and Jeremy looked at one another. " What's up?" said the laconic Jeremy. Mr. Alston thought awhile before he answered, as was his fashion. " Something gone wrong with 'the ideal,' I should say," he said at length ; "that is the way of ideals." "Shall we go and see?" said Jeremy uneasily. " No, give him a minute or two to pull himself together. Lots of time for consola- tion afterward." Meanwhile Ernest, having got into his room, sat down upon the bed, and again read tho note which was inclosed in Florence's letter. Then he folded it up and f>ut it down, slowly and methodically. Next 10 opened the other letter, which ho had not yet looked at, and read that too. After he had done it he threw himself face down- ward on tho pillow aud thought awhile. Presently he arose, and going to tho other side of the room, took down a revolver-case which hung to a nail and drew out the revolver which was loaded. Returning, he again sat down upon the bed and cocked it. So he remained for a minute or two, and then slowly lifted the pistol toward his head. At that moment he heard footsteps approaching, and with a quick movement threw tho weapon under tho bed. As he did so Mr. Alston and Jeremy entered. " Any letters, Ernest ?" asked the former. " Letters ! Oh, yes, I beg your pardon ; here they are," and he took a packet from tho pocket of his white coat and handed them to him. Mr. Alston took them, looking all the while fixedly at Ernest, who avoided his glance. " What is the matter, my boy ?" he said kindly at last ; " nothing wrong, I hope?" Ernest looked at hint blonkly. " What is it, old chap ?" said Jeremy, seating himself on the bed beside liim, and laying his hand on his arm. Then Ernest broke out iuto a paroxyism of grief painful to behold, Fcrtunacely for all concerned, it was brief. Had it lasted much longer, something must havo given way. Suddenly his mood changed and he grow hard and bitter. " Nothing, my d' r fellows, nothing," he said ; " that is, only the sequel to a pretty little idyl. Y'ou may remember a letter I wrote â€" to a woman â€" some months back. There, you both of yon know the story. Now you shall hoar tho answer or to bo more correct the answers. ' That â€" woman has a sister. Both she and her sister have written to me. My â€" her sister's letter is tho longest. Wo will take it first. I think that we may skip the first page, there is nothing particular in it, and 1 do not wish to â€" waste your time. Now listen : " • I5y-the-way, I havo a piece of news for you which will interest you, and which you will I am sure be glad to hoar ; for, of course, yon will havo by this time got over any littlo tcndresso you may have had in | that direction. Eva' (that is tho woman to | whom I wrote, and to whom I thought I was engaged) ' is going to bo married to a \ Mr. Plowden, a gentleman who has been ] acting as locum tenons for Mr. Halford.' " Hero Jeremy sprang up and used strong language. Ernest motioned him down and went on : " ' I say I am certain that you will be glad to hear this, because the match ! is in every respect a satisfactory one, and ' will, I am sure, bring dear Eva happiness. I Mr. Plowden is well off .and, of course, a clergyman, two great guarantees for the ' success of their matrimonial vcrture. Eva | tells me that she had a letter from you last mail' (the letter I read you, genllcineii), ] 'and asks me to thank joii for it. If she can find tinio she will send you a lino shortly ; but, as you will unde'rstond, she , has her hands very full just at present. The wedding is to take place at Kcsterwick Church on the 17th of May' (that is to- morrow, gentlemen), ' and,' if this letter reaches you in time, lam sure that you will think of us all on that day. It will be very quiet, owing to our dear aunt's death being still so comparatively recent. Indeed, the engagement has, iu obedience to Mr. Plowden's wishes, for he is very retiring, been kept quite secret, and you are abso- lutely the first person to whom it has been announced. I hope that you will feel duly flattered, sir. We are very busy about the trousseau, and just now the burning question is, of what color thedressiu which Eva is to go away in after the wedding shall be. Eva and I are all for gray. Mr. Plowden is for olive-green, and, as is natural under the circumstances, I expect that he will carry the day. They are together in the drawing-room settling it now. Yoi' always admired Eva (rather wrrmly once ; do you remember how cut up you both were when you wert away ? alas for the fickleness of human nature !) ; you should see her now. Her happiness makes her look lovely ; but I hear her call- in;, me. No doubt they have settled the momentous question. Good-by. I am not clever at writing, but I hope that my news will ma4(e up for my want of skill. â€" Always yours, "'Florence Ceswick.'" " Now for the incloBure," said Ernest: " ' Deak Eknest : I got your letter. Florence will toll you what there is to tell. I am going to be married. Think what you will of me ; I cannot help my mayself. Believe me, this has cost me great suffering, but my duty seems clear. I hope that you will forget mo, Ernest, as henceforth it will be my duty to forget you. Good-by, my dear Ernest, oh, good-bye. E." " Humph !" murmured Mr. Alston beneath hiabreath, "as I thought, clay, and extremely bad clay, too !" Slowly Ernest tore the letter into small fragments, threw them down, and stamped upon them with his foot as though they were a living thing. " I wish that I had shaken the life out of that parson !" groaned Jeremy, who was in his way as much affected by the news as his friend. "Curse you!" said Ernest, turning on him fiercely, " why didn't yor stop where you were and look after her, instead of coming humbugging after mo ?" Jeremy only groaned by way of answer. Mr. Alston, as was his way when perplexed, filled his pipe and lit it. Ernest paced swiftly up and down the little room, the white walls of which he had decorated with pictures cut from illustrated papers, Christ- mas cards and photographs. Over the head of the bed was a photograph of Eva herself, which lie had framed in some beautiful native wood. He reached it down. " Look," ho said, " that is the lady her- self. Handsome, isn't she, and pleasant to look on ? Who would have thought that she was such a devil ? Tells me to forget her, and talks about ' her duty' ! Women love a little joke !" Ho hurled the photograph on to the floor, and tread it as he had treaded tho letter, grinding it to pieces with his heel. " They say," he went on, " that a man's curses are sometimes heard wherever it is they arrange these pleasant surprises for us. Now you fellows bear v%'itness to what I say, and watch that woman's life. May she lay down her head insorrownight by night, and year by year ! May her â€" " " Stop, Ernest," said Mr. Alston, with a shrug, "you may bo taken at your word, and you wouldn't like that, you know. Besides, it is cowardly to go ou cursing at a woman." Ho paused, standing for a moment with his clinched fist still raised above his head, his pale lips quivering with intense excite- ment, and his dark eyes flashing and blaz- ing like stars. " You are right," he said, dropping his fist on the table. " It is with the man that I kave to deal." "Whatman?" " This Plowden. I feel that I shall dis- turb his honeymoon." " What do you mean ?" " I mean that I am going to kill him or he is going to kill mo, it docs not matter which." " Why, what quarrel have you with the man ? Of course ho looked after himself. You could not expect him to consider your iirterests, could you ?" "If ho had cut me out fairly, I should not have a word to say. Every man for himself in this pleasant world. But, mark my words, this parson and Florence have forced her into this unholy business, aud I will have his life in payment. If you don't believe mo, ask Jeremy. He saw something of the game before he left." " Look here, Kershaw, tho man's a parson. He will take shelter behind his cloth, he won't fight. What shall you do then ?" " I shall shoot him," was the cool reply. " Ernest, you are mad ; it won't do, you shall not go, and that is all about it. You shall not ruin yourself over this woman, who is not fit to black an honest man's shoes." " Shall not ! shall not ! Alston, you use strong language. Who will prevent mo ?" "I will prevent you. I am your suijerior officer, and the corps you belong to is not disbanded. If you try to leave this place you shall be arrested as a deserter. Now don't be a fool, lad ; you havo killed one man, and got out of the mess. If you kill another, you will not get out of it. Besides, what will tho satisfaction bo ? If you want revenge, bo patient. It will come. I havo seen something of life ; at le ist I am old enough to be your father, and 1 ''now you think mo a cynic because I laugh at your ' high-faluting' about women. How justly, I warned you, you see now. But, cynic or no, I believe in the God above us, and I believe, too, that there isa rough justice in this world. Tt, is in tho world principally that people expiate the sins of tho world, and if this, marriage is such a wicked thing, as you think, it will bring its own trouble with it, without any help from you. Time will avengo you. Everything comes to him who can wait." Ernest's eyes glittered coldly as ho answered : " I cannot wait. I am a ruined man already, all my life is laid waste. I wish to dio, but I wish to kill him before I die. " So sure as my name is Alston you shall not go I" " So sure as my name is Kershaw I willgo I" " Tho hoy means business," ho thought to himself. " Ho will try and bolt. How can 1 stop hiin ? Ah, I have it," and he set off briskly toward (rovernraont House, saying aloud as ho went, " I love that lad too well to let him destroy himself over a jilt." (To he continued.) I-.- : •t.M f If . â-  I. * '. 'H ,^\.. >> â- "'•'"' â- %